


Home Again?

by Nothing_You_Can_Prove



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 03:31:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15621606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nothing_You_Can_Prove/pseuds/Nothing_You_Can_Prove
Summary: You can't go home again... and again and again, not without it turning into a nightmare.





	Home Again?

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, while I’m waiting on my brain to click with the fluff I’m trying to write, have a shot of angst.

**Home Again?**

_You can’t go home again._

The first time I heard this quote, I disregarded it. Foolish of me to be so naive.

Even in Seattle, I had considered Arcadia my true home. The incessant thrum of city life never suited me, not like the peaceful charm of nature. Gentle flowing water, towering trees whispering age-old secrets into the breeze and wildlife slowly reclaiming manmade structures which had cruelly encroached on their territory.

I returned… and when I did, the floodgates opened wide.

One week was all it took to turn my home into a living hell. I lost everything, more than once. In my pursuit to prevent, I fulfilled predetermined prophecies. Inescapable. I backed myself into a corner, stretched too far. Life was chaos, I never stood a chance trying to impose any order to it. No control.

Now, I was paying the price.

The same day, repeated over and over and over again. Nothing broke the pattern. Not for lack of trying.

Saving her, not saving her. Killing him, not killing him. Staying silent, taking the bullet. No, not even my death brought an end.

So much blood and death. So much pain and suffering. An endless loop of it.

After a time, I grew desensitized to it all. Who cared what happened that day? It didn’t mean a single thing. Except… it did. Every repeated word, every desperate plea, every shot… they wore me down until I was nothing.

No matter what I did, where I tried to run to, I would always end up back there. Right on time.

_In that bathroom._

The feel of cold and grimy floor tiles was imprinted on my body. I memorized the graffiti, every poster and chipped hole tattooed on my retinas. When I closed my eyes, I could take a mental tour of this claustrophobic space. Not a detail missed.

I could re-play the harrowing sequence in my head, listen to the actors regurgitate their predetermined lines with unnerving accuracy, watch them dance around like battered puppets on frayed strings.

He would enter, pace and mutter. Soon after, she would burst in, tongue sharp and biting. Footsteps, checking the stalls, then to business. Taunting, demanding, rage...

**BANG.**

There I was. A helpless witness, only able to relive every single second in excruciating clarity. No respite. My whole body shook, closing in on itself. A vain attempt to block out the… nightmare? Reality? It was almost impossible to tell by this point.

Imagination took over, anything to escape the monotony. My mind took me places… places I _never_ wanted to visit… places I so desperately did. All my mistakes, all my hopes and dreams replaying and merging. Distorted.

Without fail, I always returned to the classroom. The starting point of the spiral.

Sat in my seat, my empty blue eyes scanned the painfully familiar desks. I tensed at the sound of a monster dressed as a man. Predatory eyes, a smug sneer and dark aura sucking all the happiness from the world like a leach.

He had suffered over and over again too, I made sure of that. While he deserved so much more, a lifetime of punishment, I didn’t have the energy anymore. All the anger had bubbled over, a volcanic eruption of fear and hatred.

There was nothing left but ash now, carried by the wind. Drifting nowhere.

A sharp clang, scraping chairs and idle chatter. My cue to leave. On autopilot, my limbs moved. I stood, packed away my things and went to leave. The bearded beast called out to me, spoke my name in his demonic tone.

I stopped, watching his lips move. No sound anymore. Not that I needed audio confirmation. I knew which responses to give and when. Enough to appease him.

Once he let me free from his clutches, I headed into the now claustrophobic hallway. Shadows lined the length, my fellow students. Their features were blurred, forms indistinct. Mere background scenery.

Whispered voices reached my ears, garbled nonsense. Words I’d hear too many times before, jumbled together. A cacophony. There was no sense left. People so unaware of repeated gossip, totally oblivious to the fact I knew what they would say better than even they did.

I’d messed with them before, trying everything I could to break out of this pattern. All that earned me were insults, weird looks and even injury. It was both liberating - or had been at first - and soul-crushing to have a power such as mine. Even worse when I fully realized I had no control over it.

They had cycled through every conceivable emotion: happiness, anger, sadness, confusion, jealousy, fear…

Now, I just let them be.

As I approached the bathroom, my stomach tied itself up in knots. I didn’t want to face what was on the other side of that door. Not again. What choice did I have? If I did nothing, I would be here again in a few moments.

With shaking hands, I entered the hell called a bathroom. Walking past the mirror, I took a moment to examine myself. While I physically remained the same during every repeat, the emotional exhaustion showed.

If only I could rest…

Reluctantly, I dragged my feet across the tiles to my usual spot. I slumped against the stall, wondering if there was anything I could do differently this time. Maybe there was no end. That was a dangerous line of thought, so I did a mental U-turn.

I wasn’t ready to completely give up. Not quite.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed moment coming from the small window in the corner. Death’s fateful messenger, wings fluttering as it descended. As always, it landed on the bucket, waiting for its photo shoot. Only once I turned to face the winged harbinger of doom did I realize it.

Something _had_ changed. A small thing.

_This time, the butterfly was red._

**Author's Note:**

> Might do another short chapter for this, depending on how well other writing goes, lol.


End file.
